Jigsaw Puzzles and Breaking the Fourth Wall
by fbeauchamphartz
Summary: This is what happens when the objects of our obsessions realize that their actions are being scripted by an unknown, unseen force. This pokes fun at fanfiction authors and the stories they write. I am posting this here for fun, because a lot of people on tumblr got a kick out of it. Based of the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts. Kurt H. and Blaine A.
1. Jigsaw Puzzles and Breaking the Fourth W

"Wait," Kurt said, as he fit an end piece into the large puzzle of a rather complicated Van Gogh painting, "what exactly are we doing?"

"We're making a jigsaw puzzle," Blaine answered, deep in thought as he tried to fit one of a thousand dark blue pieces into place.

"But, we never make jigsaw puzzles," Kurt said. "I mean, when did we even buy this one?"

"We didn't," Blaine answered, moving to the next dark blue piece. "It just showed up today."

"In the mail?" Kurt said, suddenly compelled to pick up another piece on his side and try to fit it in an empty spot. He turned it once, twice, and one last time before trying to hammer it into place with his fist, regardless of the fact that it clearly didn't belong.

"Oh, gosh no," Blaine said, deciding to move to one of the ten thousand white pieces, since he was having no luck with the blues. "I mean, I respect van Gogh and all, but he's by no means my favorite artist. No, it just showed up here on the living room floor."

"And we're putting it together…why?"

"Because we have to," Blaine replied, silently cheering when he pulled a piece from the box and discovered it was already connected perfectly to six others.

"And why do we have to?" Kurt was frustrated with his now bent and beaten piece, and moved on to torture another.

"Because they tell us we have to," Blaine said simply, rescuing Kurt's ruined piece and putting it into place.

"Who's 'they'?" Kurt asked, dropping his voice, feeling a little paranoid.

"Them." Blaine gestured vaguely. "Our fans. All of them, sitting behind computer screens, writing our every move, our every thought. They decided that today we would have to do something that surrounded the word 'jigsaw' so here we are."

Kurt's eyes shifted left and right, as if he expected to see the omnipresent fans, but of course, he couldn't. Kurt dropped his voice to a whisper.

"So, let me get this straight," Kurt said, trying not to move his lips as he spoke. "They can make us do anything…and I mean _anything _they want, and they have us sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room putting together this time consuming jigsaw puzzle?"

"That's right," Blaine said, grabbing up another piece.

"Don't they know they could be making us do something really dirty right now?" Kurt wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Uh, yeah…" Blaine flicked his eyes up to meet his fiancé's. "That was day four, actually. Oh, and you needn't whisper. They can read anything you say."

"Well, I…that's ridiculous," Kurt said, faltering and talking a little louder than necessary to cover his faux pas, "I wasn't whispering because of them or anything…please don't make me straight tomorrow, oh omnipresent, omniscient fandom!"

"Omnipresent, omniscient fandom?" Blaine echoed with a laugh. "Wow, you really know how to kiss ass, baby. Too bad the word of the day wasn't 'jerk'. I could think of a lot of possibilities for that word right now."

Blaine winked.

Kurt scoffed.

"As in 'you're acting like a jerk, Blaine Devon Anderson'?" Kurt said icily.

"Don't be like that," Blaine cooed. He put in another piece and cheered. "Yes! I made a…a thing! What…what is that?"

Blaine tilted his head left and right, trying to make out what the object actually was.

Kurt squinted, looking at the object with a critical eye.

"I don't know. I would say that maybe it's a little boy playing with a dog, but that blob doesn't even look remotely human."

Kurt threw himself on the floor, and groaned.

"This is soooo boring! At least, it could have been a puzzle of the first Vogue cover, or Patti Lu Pone's Evita movie poster."

Blaine looked at his watch and smiled.

"Hey, look. I think our time is up," Blaine said.

"What?" Kurt asked, looking at Blaine with wide, excited eyes. "How do you know?"

"Because, I don't feel like finishing the puzzle anymore," Blaine said. "So, I can only imagine that whoever's writing this story is just about done."

"Thank God!" Kurt stood and stretched, twisting left and right, popping his back.

Then he bent over and touched his toes.

Then, he got on one foot and hopped around in a circle.

Blaine laughed.

"Uh…Kurt…what are you doing?"

"Um…I don't quite know, Blaine." Kurt sounded exasperated. "I'm not choosing to do this.'

"Uh-oh." Blaine bit his lip. "You complained too much, and you pissed off the author."

"Sorry," Kurt said. He stopped hopping up and down.

"See. No harm, no foul."

"This is a little disturbing," Kurt whispered. Blaine wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist.

"Don't worry. It should only last till Christmas."

Kurt sighed as Blaine led him to the kitchen.

"What do you think we'll be doing tomorrow?" Kurt asked.

Blaine shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Today was jigsaw puzzle…that starts with 'j'…that makes tomorrow 'k'. Kite? Kimono? Kilt?"

"Ooo, kilts! I love kilts!"

"So do I," Blaine said.

"What are we doing now?" Kurt asked, pulling bowls out of the cabinets and setting them on the counters.

"We're making cookies," Blaine answered.

"Why?" Kurt asked.

"Fuck if I know," Blaine said. "We do that a lot in these stories."

Blaine reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"And apparently I'm going to be baking naked."

Kurt leaned against the counter and smiled up to the ceiling.

"I wonder who this author is," he mused. "I think I like her."


	2. Really, Blaine, Neon?

Kurt and Blaine sit comfortably on the floor of their loft while Blaine attempts to finish the Van Gogh puzzle. Kurt watches over the rim of his coffee mug as Blaine maneuvers one of the final key pieces of his puzzle into place.

"So, you're still working on that, huh?" Kurt says, a tad judgmentally, as he takes a tentative sip of his hot coffee.

"Yup," Blaine replies briefly, deep in concentration.

Kurt nods.

"Are you doing it because…uh…"

Blaine's eyes flick up and meet Kurt's, divining his meaning.

"Nope," Blaine says. "I just wanted to finish it."

Kurt smiles, uneasy at the prospect of being overheard.

"Okay, okay," Kurt says. "That I get. But, really, Blaine? Neon?"

Blaine takes a moment to look down at his brighter than necessary blue sweatshirt.

"We talked about this, Kurt," Blaine says with a pointed look.

Kurt blanches for a moment.

"Right, right…" Kurt says, taking another careful sip. "Omnipresent, omniscient fandom."

Kurt's head bobs as he nods sagely.

Blaine's eyes flick up to Kurt's one more time, his mouth twisting in a sly smile.

"You haven't noticed yet, have you?" he says with veiled amusement in his voice.

Kurt looks back, his wide eyes confused.

"Wh-what?"

Blaine's eyes travel to Kurt's torso, and Kurt looks down his own body. Suddenly, instead of his trademark McQueen sweater, he is wearing a retro, faded neon yellow t-shirt with the message "FRANKIE SAYS RELAX" big as life on the front.

Kurt stares down at his violated body, mortified, before looking back up to lock eyes with his giggling fiancé.

Kurt sighs, opting for his usual eloquence in the face of the intolerable.

"Oh, crap."


	3. Taking Things to a Weird Place

**A/N: **_This is the third part to "Jigsaw Puzzles and Breaking the Fourth Wall", where Kurt and Blaine realize they are characters in a piece of fanfiction. This follows, "Really, Blaine? Neon?" If you have ever read hybrid fanfiction, or not read it, passed it by, or hated it, you might appreciate this ;) This uses the prompts overture, pulse, quick, river, stitch, and torch._

The rhythmic pulsating explosions of the _1812 Overture_ filled the loft, till the floor vibrated and Blaine's ears pounded. Kurt punctuated his canvas with dramatic brush strokes in time with the music, splattering the drop cloth on the floor with paint every time the canons sounded.

Blaine sat on a stool, fidgeting uncomfortably in his ill-fitting toga, holding a bamboo bowl filled with an odd assortment of tropical fruit.

"Okay. You're right," Blaine said, talking uneasily from the corner of his mouth. "This is getting a little disturbing."

"Are you kidding?" Kurt laughed, taking a moment to conduct the loud music before attacking his canvas again. "This is her best idea yet!"

"That's because you're not the one wearing the toga," Blaine groused. "And about that, why do you even have this anyway?"

Kurt blushed, choosing not to answer. As the music wound down, Kurt threw down his brush and palette triumphantly.

"There," he said, panting as if he had just run a marathon. "Finished." Kurt raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Do you want to see?"

Blaine hopped down off his stool, adjusting his toga over his shoulder, and lifting the hem to make walking possible. He toddled over to the painting and looked it over, his curious expression turning into a comical look of outrage that left Kurt in stitches.

"You've been painting a river the whole time?" Blaine cried, scratching at the fabric irritating his shoulder. His eyes darted over the painting left to right, up and down, and then over again. "I'm not even in this painting!"

"Yes you are," Kurt pouted playfully. He pointed to a spot in the upper right hand corner. Blaine squinted, his face twisting.

"That…that's just a splotch of paint!"

"Why are you so upset?" Kurt bit his lip, stifling the grin that tried to force its way on to his face without his permission.

"Because I've been sitting on that hard ass stool for over an hour, holding this bowl of fruit, and wearing this toga that I think I'm allergic to. I need out of it, quick! Seriously, what is this thing made of? Cat hair?"

"No one told you not to wear anything underneath it," Kurt countered. "Besides…" Kurt crossed his arms petulantly across his chest. "Blame you-know-who. I can't be held accountable for my actions."

Blaine sighed, trying hard to get out of the toga, finding himself inexplicably stuck.

"Well, maybe I would be less pissed if I could get this God-forsaken thing off." Blaine tugged. Kurt tugged. The toga would not budge.

Kurt looked around the loft for help. The Tiki torches propped in the corner from last week's impromptu luau gave Kurt an inspired idea.

"We'll light it on fire!" Kurt chirped, raising a finger.

Blaine's eyes went wide.

"What!? Why!? Why would you do that?"

"It'll be so _Catching Fire_," Kurt railroaded past Blaine's cries of anguish.

"But…but…I'm not a bird under here!"

Kurt's face suddenly looked frantic as he clapped a hand over Blaine's mouth and hissed.

"Shhh! Don't say that!"

Kurt looked left and right, his eyes shifting around anxiously before he decided it was safe to continue.

"She could do that to us, you know."

"Do what?" Blaine mumbled from behind Kurt's hand still clamped tight over his mouth.

"Turn us into animals. Or hybrids. You know, like animorphs? Half man, half animal?"

"How do you know that?" Blaine whispered.

"I looked it up." Kurt swallowed. "I've seen it, Blaine. Fanfiction where the main characters are kittens, puppies…even squid."

Blaine went pale.

"Do you think she would?" Blaine sounded horrified.

Both men waited in the quiet, anticipating some possible metamorphic transformation. After a few minutes of nothing, both men sighed in relief.

"I think we're in the clear," Blaine said, daring to talk at regular, human levels.

Kurt put an arm around Blaine's shoulders.

"Come on," he said soothingly. "Let's go find my sewing scissors and cut you out of that."

Blaine growled playfully. Both men walked away, oblivious to Blaine shedding feathers or the presence of Kurt's new tail.


	4. Near the End

Kurt and Blaine lay sprawled out on the living room rug, staring up at the ceiling.

"How much longer do you think she's going to keep doing this to us?" Kurt whispered, turning his head to look at his fiancé. Kurt was still nauseous from earlier when he had coughed up a pretty nasty hair ball. Blaine stayed as still as possible, covered in head to toe calamine lotion due to an extreme allergy he had to the blackbird feathers he found himself covered in. He had finally shed them all about the same time Kurt had lost all his tangerine covered fur and his tail. He didn't relish being a bird…but being groomed by Kurt was another erotic, disturbing story.

Blaine's eyes shifted, trying to catch a glimpse of the wall clock in the kitchen.

"Well, it's eleven o'clock now…just one hour till midnight. So about another hour."

"Yes!" Kurt cried happily, no longer caring who heard. "Just one more hour, then we break out the vodka, do some shots, and forget any of this ever happened."

"Wait," Blaine said, stopping Kurt's premature celebration. "Now that we're nearing the end, shouldn't we try and learn a lesson from all this?"

"Like what?" Kurt groaned. "That our lives are not our own? That we are make believe constructs of someone else's sick imagination? Play things for someone else's sick amusement?"

Blaine bobbed his head while he thought about what Kurt had said.

"Well, there's that," he agreed, "but what about the part where life can take unexpected and exciting turns? That there will be ups and downs, but you and I can stand strong as long as we stand together?"

Kurt turned and looked at Blaine's pink, splotchy face, offering him a weak smile.

"You're so wise, Blaine Anderson," Kurt said. "I'm so glad I said yes."

Blaine smiled, turning back toward the ceiling.

"Sooo, another hour?" Kurt confirmed.

"I'd say so," Blaine answered.

Kurt sighed.

"Do you think that'll be before or after I have this baby?"

Blaine's sigh answered Kurt's.

"Let's hope before," Blaine said. "But just to be on the safe side, you should probably cross your legs."


End file.
